


Too Much or Not Enough

by aretia



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aromantic, Aromantic Aziraphale, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 23:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20016607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aretia/pseuds/aretia
Summary: Angels were beings of love, and as such, Aziraphale poured vast amounts of love into the world at all times, undirected and all-encompassing. But lately, he had noticed that a great deal of that love was being funneled in the direction of one demon in particular.He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.(Or: Aziraphale is aromantic, and struggles with how to broach the subject to Crowley without breaking his best friend’s heart.)





	Too Much or Not Enough

Angels were beings of love, and as such, Aziraphale poured vast amounts of love into the world at all times, undirected and all-encompassing. He loved humanity, and the Earth, and even other angels--at least in a general sense, he couldn’t be bothered to waste any of his unconditional love on the ones who had been cruel to him. But lately, he had noticed that a great deal of that love was being funneled in the direction of one demon in particular. 

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. 

On the one hand, the love that he radiated into the world made him feel good on a soul-deep level, and he certainly wasn’t one to deny himself things that felt good. On the other hand, it didn’t pull him in any particular direction. It was just something he did; Crowley didn’t need to change anything in order to obtain more of Aziraphale’s love. In fact, the idea of him doing so scared Aziraphale a little.

Sure, he and Crowley had been close for as long as the Earth itself had existed. But Aziraphale wasn’t prepared for anything about their relationship to change. He enjoyed Crowley’s companionship, his witty conversations as well as his physical presence, but he balked at redefining the nature of their arrangement. 

He knew quite a bit about what humans considered romantic love to be from their books and movies, and a lot of it seemed to involve kissing and going on dates, which sounded nice on their own, and also not a huge step from what he and Crowley already did. Aziraphale had always been a fan of human pleasures like food and entertainment; he wouldn’t mind adding kissing to the list, and who better to try it with than the person he trusted most out of anyone in the universe? 

The snag came with the fact that humans seemed to categorize romantic love as more important than other kinds. Romantic relationships were considered  _ more _ than friendships, and Aziraphale couldn’t imagine his relationship with Crowley being  _ more _ when it was already everything he had ever wanted. 

To complicate things even more, he worried about whether their relationship was everything Crowley wanted, or whether he was leaving his friend desperately wanting for something more. Whenever he was near Crowley, he could feel the waves of love radiating off of him and crashing into his awareness, in at least equal if not greater magnitude than the ones he directed towards Crowley. But identifying the nature of that love, and fitting it into a human label, was not within the scope of his powers. 

Crowley’s wounded look when he had uttered the words ‘ _You go too fast for me, Crowley_ ’ crashed into his mind, unbidden. He didn’t know how long Crowley would keep waiting for him. He didn’t know how long he would keep him waiting, whether he would ever be ready in all of eternity. He did know that Crowley was worth too much to be kept waiting. 

If Crowley did desire a change in their relationship, Aziraphale might be able to handle the transition at first, but if he ever changed his mind, he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to back out without breaking Crowley’s heart. After several millennia of staying by each other’s side, and defying the apocalypse together, he had allowed himself to think that they were unbreakable. But making a risky move only to take it back could break his friendship with Crowley for good, and losing Crowley would be worse than the end of the world. 

Lost in thought as he was, Aziraphale was having little luck focusing on the book that he was trying to read. He had moved from his armchair to a more studious posture at his desk, but every few seconds he still found his eyes drifting off the page, and his thoughts drifting back to Crowley, and the discussion that they would have to have at some point or another. 

Aziraphale was startled from his thoughts by a hand clapping onto his shoulder, and a plastic takeout bag thumping down upon the desk. “I brought you lunch, since you haven’t moved from this spot in about fifteen hours,” Crowley declared, untying the handles of the bag with a flourish.

“Oh. That’s… um. Thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale mumbled, his distraction too apparent in his own voice for his liking. 

Crowley caught on immediately, tilting his head to the side as he leaned against the corner of the desk. “Not in the mood? I got you sushi from your favorite place,” he insisted.

“No, no, that’s not it. It smells delicious,” said Aziraphale, trying desperately to cover for himself, and only digging himself a deeper hole in the process.

Crowley could never sit still for even an instant. Aziraphale watched as Crowley, still perched on the desk, folded one of his ankles up over his other knee, then placed his elbow on top of his bent knee, and cupped his chin in his hand. “Something else on your mind, then?”

Aziraphale  _ hated _ how easily Crowley could read him sometimes. It was _infuriating_. But more than that, it was touching, and it only made what he was already struggling to put into words even harder to say. “I suppose there is something that has been on my mind for a long time,” he said. “You might want to be sitting down for this.”

“I am sitting,” Crowley said, with a touch of that smug grin playing across his features.

“I would hardly call that _sitting_ ,” Aziraphale retorted, looking up and down at Crowley’s absurd posture upon the desk. “But it was more of an expression, anyway. Though I would like you to remove your glasses, if you wouldn’t mind.” Aziraphale knew that Crowley felt comforted by having his eyes hidden, even when it was just the two of them, and he wasn’t offended by that. But he wasn’t going to have this conversation unless he could see Crowley’s immediate reactions before he was able to filter them. If he hurt Crowley, he knew that Crowley would try to downplay it, but Aziraphale wanted to have the chance to undo the damage. 

Crowley did as Aziraphale requested, removing the dark glasses and setting them on the desk beside him. The look in his eyes was one of apprehension. Aziraphale rarely asked him to take off his glasses, so he knew that when he did, it was serious business. 

Aziraphale let out a deep sigh. Even though he had eternity to make up his mind, he always felt like a deadline was pressing down on him, like any moment now Crowley was going to get tired of waiting for him and make a change before Aziraphale had prepared himself. Now he had committed to it, and there was no turning back. 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale asked, his voice soft, tentative. “Do you like me?”

“No, I think you’re obnoxious and I can’t stand being around you. That’s why I make an effort to spend every waking moment with you.” Crowley shrugged his shoulders as if he was baffled by the absurdity of the question. “Of course I like you. I thought we were well past this, angel.”

“I know. But that’s not what I meant,” said Aziraphale. “I’m asking if you like me in… a different way.”

There was that head tilt again, that endearing head tilt that conveyed so much curiosity and confusion. “Different in what way?”

“I’m an angel. I can sense love,” said Aziraphale. “I get the sense that you…  _ love  _ me. Is that true?”

This time, Crowley wasn’t teasing when he denied it. He was defensive, almost as if he was offended at the very suggestion. “No! Pfff, of course not. I would never--what would give you that idea?”

“Oh, well, that settles that, then,” murmured Aziraphale. “I suppose I must have been reading your signals wrong all along.” His eyes flitted around the shop, landing anywhere but Crowley. But he had no choice but to look at Crowley when Crowley seized his collar in his hand and pulled him so close that their noses brushed together. 

“Oh, for h--for somebody’s sake, angel, how can you possibly be so dense?” Crowley groaned. “Yes. Fine. I… love you.” The way that his face contorted after that admission looked at once like he wanted to wash his mouth out with soap, and like he had just taken his first breath after carrying a weight on his chest for an untold length of time. 

Aziraphale gulped, his Adam’s apple brushing against Crowley’s fingers which were still wrapped around his collar. “Oh.”

“Your turn,” Crowley said.

“What?”

“Do you love me?” Crowley asked, his tone almost cloying, but his eyes searching Aziraphale’s with the most achingly vulnerable expression.

Aziraphale swallowed thickly again, and squeaked out, “...Maybe?”

The betrayed look that darkened Crowley’s eyes was like a dagger through Aziraphale’s heart. He had braced himself for this, but he was in no way prepared for seeing pain in Crowley’s eyes that he personally had inflicted. 

“Maybe?” Crowley scoffed, with a bitter laugh that was empty of joy. He released Aziraphale’s collar, and moved like he was trying to put as much distance between himself and the angel as possible. “You pry that out of me like you’re pulling out my teeth with a crowbar, and then all you have to say back is ‘maybe?’” His voice broke on that traitorous word, and he turned away from Aziraphale to hide what his eyes were doing. He pushed himself off of the corner of the desk, taking a step towards the door.

“Wait.” Aziraphale tugged on Crowley’s sleeve. “I wanted to bring this up with you because, well, I think I do love you, but maybe not in the way that you think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Crowley said, but the heat of anger had faded from his voice, giving way to defeat. He tentatively propped himself back against the desk.

“It’s, well… it’s hard to explain. I’m not even quite sure myself,” Aziraphale began. He knew that was a horrible way to start, but he had to gather his thoughts. “Love, for me, isn’t just a feeling. Loving itself is an action. But it isn’t something that I feel the need to act on.”

Crowley furrowed his eyebrows, desperately trying to find purchase on what Aziraphale had said and failing, like the concept was sand slipping between his fingers. “So… you do love me, or you don’t?”

“It depends on how you define it,” said Aziraphale. “I don’t really have romantic attraction towards anyone in particular. So in that sense, no. But does that mean that my love for you is any less? Well… I don’t think so. But that’s up to you to decide. I just didn’t want to give you the impression that I feel something that I don’t.”

Crowley hummed thoughtfully, pressing his finger to his temple. “Angel, I think you’re getting too worked up over trying to put a label on it,” he said. “Humans like to divide everything into neat little boxes. But we’re not constrained like that. Our relationship, whatever you want to call it, is deeper than that.”

“But don’t you want one?” Aziraphale interrupted. “A human label, I mean.”

“Maybe?” Crowley replied. He winced when he realized he’d given the same empty reply that he’d lashed out at Aziraphale for minutes earlier. “There have been times when I’ve wished I could call you my _husband_ , or something similar. But the label doesn’t change who we are to each other. I don’t have to have it if it would make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t have to make such accommodations for me,” Aziraphale said, his cheeks heating up with a fervent blush. “If I don’t give you everything you want, there’s no reason why you need to stay with me. I don’t want to hold you back.” His voice cracked with a choked sob when he said that. He didn’t want Crowley to leave… but he would feel horribly guilty if he didn’t at least give him the option. 

" _Aziraphale_." His name instead of the usual pet name made him look up to meet golden eyes blazing with sincerity. Crowley’s gaze flickered down to Aziraphale’s hand. “If I may…” he said, his hand hovering over it. Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley took his hand in his. “You aren’t holding me back, because there’s nothing else I could ever want more than you.” 

“Even if I don’t want anything about us to change?” Aziraphale said.

“Even then,” Crowley agreed. “I’m perfectly content with the way things are, too. I’ll let you lead. Show me what you’re comfortable with, and I’ll only go as far as you want me to go.”

The sob that Aziraphale had held back before broke free now, a couple of tears rolling down his cheeks. “Thank you so much, Crowley.”

Crowley glanced down at their hands, and saw that Aziraphale had interlaced their fingers. “Is this okay?” Crowley asked.

“More than okay,” said Aziraphale. “It feels nice.”

“I thought that you said you didn’t… feel the need to act on it,” said Crowley.

“I don’t,” said Aziraphale. “But I don’t mind if  _ you _ do. I don’t have a problem with the actions themselves. In fact, I’d rather like to try them with you.”

“You mean…?”

Aziraphale nodded again, the nod of unspoken permission.

But Crowley didn’t do anything. He squirmed on the edge of the desk, his free hand clutching the fabric of his jeans, like he was gathering his nerve. His cheeks were dusted with pink.

There was one advantage to the way Aziraphale felt. He didn’t get flustered about these sorts of things the way Crowley apparently did. So if Crowley needed a little nudge to help him along, maybe that was one way that Aziraphale could give him what he wanted. 

Aziraphale leaned forward in his chair, using his hold on Crowley’s hand for leverage. His other hand cradled Crowley’s jaw and tilted his head down, and he kissed him. It was just a closed-lip smooch that lingered long enough for Aziraphale to feel the softness of Crowley’s lips against his, before he pulled away, leaving Crowley breathless and Aziraphale pleased with himself.

“I think that was quite enjoyable,” Aziraphale said with a radiant smile. “Was it okay for you?”

Crowley took a moment to regain control of his mouth. “More than okay,” he breathed.

Aziraphale opened his arms for him, inviting. Crowley slid from the edge of the desk onto Aziraphale’s cushy lap. His arms draped over Aziraphale’s shoulders, while Aziraphale placed his hands on Crowley’s waist. With every movement, there was the assurance that Crowley would stop at the slightest signal from Aziraphale that it was too much. But right now, he was so overwhelmed with relief that Crowley understood how he felt that he wanted to indulge in this pleasure while he could, free of the worry that it would mean something different to Crowley than Aziraphale intended. Crowley kissed him again, and nothing in the world could stop them.

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale’s experience of being romance-favorable aromantic as portrayed in this fic is not universal and I don’t intend it that way. It’s not an exact reflection of my own experiences either, but just a way of exploring my feelings. Also, my sexuality/romantic identity headcanons are not consistent across all my fics and while this is a fic about Aziraphale being aromantic, that doesn’t mean that he will be written that way in future fics. If you relate to this fic or you enjoyed reading it, thank you! I’m always open for discussion in the comments.


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